Mysteries

The guess work; putting the puzzle pieces together; the anticipation; thinking you've got it right, only to find out you were wrong. Mysteries make you think. I can feel the elastic in my brain stretching, and then stretching some more, until the rubber snaps and goes flying off into the ether.

I'm a mystery junkie. That's my writing genre. For awhile, all I read was mysteries. I learned a lot. For example, two years before going to Edinburgh, Scotland to live for six months, I learned my way around Edinburgh by reading all of the Ian Rankin books and following Inspector Rebus around that lovely city as he sussed out the criminal elements.

Life is packed with mysteries. Life is a mystery (hold that thought, more on that in a few...). Not all mysteries involve someone being murdered, but perhaps that is some of the appeal of reading mysteries: to surround ourselves with that inevitable (demise, destruction, death), which most of us don't like to talk about, and to feel cozy and content in the knowledge of, whew, geez, it wasn't me. Maybe it's my same love of being home with the wood stove burning, curled up in a quilt, my cupboards stocked, not having to move an inch outside my front door, as a roaring, raging Nor-easter dumps six foot of heavy, blinding snow outside. It's the warm, reassuring feeling of safety. One of my earliest memories of Cayuga Lake, where my father built a cabin, is being out on the lake in a kayak with my dad. It must have been early morning, as I remember a chilly mist surrounding us on the lake. My 3 or 4 year old self, out in the middle of a large lake, sitting with my father as he paddled a very small, slight craft, and yet, I go back to that memory as one of the times I've felt the very safest in my life. A mystery. Why is it I love safety, but also love risk and adventure? Does one make the other that much sweeter?

But, not all mysteries are risk and adventure, many are about the joy of solving problems that bring you to something you love. Take for instance, my brother, Charlie. He likes to dig deep to the root, whether it's figuring out insects in his garden, or working on restoring his vintage SS to original condition. Recently he tracked down the Contigo Street Corn salad recipe from Hoss's to a distributer's website to get the recipe. It's that kind of detective work that gives us the pleasure of the recipe below (all good blogs need to at least occasionally share some recipes...right?!)

Contigo Street Corn Salad

8 ears of corn

3 Tbsp olive oil

¼ C mayonnaise

¼ C sour cream

2 Tbsp fresh cilantro, chopped finely

¼ C shredded cotija cheese

2 fresh limes, squeezed

1 red onion, diced fine

½ tsp garlic powder

½ tsp garlic powder

½ tsp chili powder

½ tsp ground cumin

1/8 tsp salt

Husk the corn and grill either in a pan with oil, or on the grill outside. Strip the corn from the cob, combine all ingredients and simmer. Stir to Thicken.

May be served hot or cold.

My brother-in-law, Randy, has been helping me try to solve the mystery of why we're getting hot water (scalding) through our cold water faucets. I sent him the picture of our hot water tank and he said it looked more like macramé. No...I know how to do macrame...this is gobbledygook. The plumber I hired shrugged and went on to the more straight forwarded clogged toilet down the street. (Don't even get me started.) But, through our detective work, I am learning a lot. Randy, from his safe perch in Vermont, is walking me through the macrame: where the pressure relief valve is, different than the check valve, the recirculation system, the flow balancing device...whoa, check me out!

A mystery. Life. Somerset Maugham describes life as a Persian carpet, intricate and beautiful, but in his book Of Human Bondage, his main character eventually finds beauty and meaning in the simplicity of life. I seem to think it's both. Questioning my faith, only strengthens my faith. Searching, detective work, if you will, through the intricacies of life, through the difficult relationships, through the injustices, ego-saturated politicians, the tip-toeing through the sheep-shit (see Isle of Skye post, Aug 6, 2024), only brings us that much closer into ourselves, our souls and to the divine. And then, just as in The Practice, just when you're so sure you know who's innocent, and who's guilty, the hook comes and it tosses you flat against the wall, making your brain feel like spaghetti (macramé...lol!). But it strengthens you, and humbles you, and that's a good thing.

Thank you for reading,

amy

https://sites.google.com/view/amy-camille-doyle

Oh, and the input on my front door color....thanks, everyone. for chiming in! Jayne did a tech visual of my door with different colors, and lavender is definitely out. maybe going with a deep, forest green (sounds like a Simon and Garfunkel song). I'll post pics when it happens. -amy